


If I Loved You

by withtalkofsummertime



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Canon Era, M/M, implied orgasms?, rated m to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withtalkofsummertime/pseuds/withtalkofsummertime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Overhearing Marius wax eloquent about Enjolras to Cosette, Valjean decides to take a trip to the Cafe Musain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Loved You

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by semenjolras on tumblr: “ONE-SIDED VALJEAN/ENJOLRAS AND VALJEAN ACCIDENTALLY SEEING ENJOLRAS AND GRANTAIRE MAKING OUT A LOT HAHA BYE”. Title inspired by Aaron Tveit's cover of the Sinatra song of the same name.

Valjean doesn’t go right to bed on the nights he knows Cosette is speaking with Marius. And yes, he knows they really are just speaking. _For now._

Anyway, the point is he’s not dozing off like the boring old man they think he is. He listens. One night, he hears Marius telling Cosette about his friends—his Amis, he calls them. “They’re amazing, Cosette—I was skeptical at first too, but now! Oh, their leader could bring anyone to his cause.”

“Really, he’s that persuasive?”

“It isn’t just that he is persuasive, although he is that. This man—his name is Enjolras—believes. He isn’t spewing political nonsense. When he speaks, it is from his heart. He seems to glow with it, his fervor just shines out of him. He’s got this wild blond hair, and if he happens to be standing in front of a light, it looks like he is a wrathful angel, come to put humanity back on the right track. Aesthetically, Cosette, he is stunning. He looks a little bit like you, actually,” Marius says, his voice changing from the excited tone of describing his friend to a more intimate tone. He’s probably curling Cosette’s hair between his fingers. Cosette makes a happy hum, and Valjean makes a disgusted face.

“Your friend sounds special. I'd like to see him,” Cosette says.

“Oh, Cosette, you should come to a meeting! We meet at the Cafe Musain, I will escort you there myself. You’re likely to be one of the few women there, however.”

“You said he was stunning!”

“And he is, but he has no interest in women. He doesn’t even notice when they come to meetings to see him. Even when the brave ones talk to him, he brushes them off in confusion and attends to others present.”

Can it be true? Valjean has lived without romance for so long; he’s always assumed there were no other men who would turn away from women, if the women were present. The only male couples he had ever seen or even known of had been in Toulon, when the men were starved for someone else’s touch. His thoughts race, and he feels his face getting warm. He stands by his window long enough to hear Marius tell Cosette when the Amis meet, and then Valjean closes his window quietly and settles into his bed.

—

On the day of the next meeting of Les Amis, Valjean is at a loss for what he usually does on Wednesdays. He ends up in the chair in his study, watching the clock tick down to an appropriate time to leave his home and go to the cafe. He bounds out of the house and arrives at the Musain early enough to secure a seat near the front of the audience.

And when Enjolras takes the stage, Valjean is sure of who he is. Who else could Marius have meant? Enjolras with his blond hair curling around his face. Enjolras with the fire in his eyes. Enjolras, who is like him. Valjean tries to temper himself, reminds himself that he doesn’t know this boy and it is unfair to assume he would be so lucky that he likes men. But God, can’t a man dream? He wants to speak to Enjolras, face to face, and try to understand his point of view on these complex ideas of politics that Valjean does not pay much heed to. He can’t pay any attention to him now, but he wants to. He wants to maybe touch his hair. His cheekbones. His mouth, where the words he’s not hearing are coming from. Well, that’s embarrassing. Why is Enjolras bowing his head and leaving the stage? What did he miss?

Valjean stands uncertainly, wanting to approach Enjolras. He watches Enjolras cross to the back of the room and shake hands and clap shoulders with several young men. He hovers over one of them, who looks up at Enjolras with some sort of dark look in his eyes. This man is dark haired, and rests his chin in his hand to keep himself upright, it seems. He looks at Enjolras for a moment longer, licks his lips, and stands to walk out of the cafe. Enjolras turns to keep looking at him, and follows. And so does Valjean, to his own dismay. Valjean stands in the front hallway of the cafe dithering. Finally he pushes the door open and looks into the street curiously.

To his right, a spark of light catches his eye. A streetlight is reflected in the shine of blond hair. It’s Enjolras, Valjean realizes, noticing the clothing Enjolras had been wearing during his speech. Enjolras has his hands clenched in something dark, and it doesn’t really make sense for him to be pressing against the wall like that. Skin flashes against the red of Enjolras’ coat, fingers trying to catch hold of his shoulders and changing their trajectory, moving up to the sides of Enjolras’ jaw. Valjean sees curly black hair as Enjolras twists to bring him in closer, and it lights in his brain like some painful epiphany—it’s the man who had left the Musain with Enjolras at his heels. They’re holding onto each other desperately; it looks like they’re trying to squash their bodies into the same space.

Valjean steps sideways in their direction, his back pressed to the wall of the alley. He hears a sharp gasp from the two men and halts, listening. “Gran—Grantaire,” Enjolras says. “My god, Grantaire.” His blond head is nearly hidden as he presses his face against the other man, Grantaire’s, neck. Grantaire’s arms cross Enjolras’ back, and he tilts his head to rest it on Enjolras’.

When Enjolras pulls back, he looks Grantaire in the eye and says quietly, “I’m ready. Let’s go back in.” Enjolras’ face is turned away from Valjean, but he can see Grantaire smile and nod. His hands run through Enjolras’ hair as though he’s trying to tame it. If Valjean had to guess he would say it was just an excuse to run his fingers through it. “Good,” Grantaire pronounces it, and Enjolras takes hold of Grantaire’s shoulders and squeezes them in affirmation.

Now they are going to turn around any moment and come towards him, it seems. Valjean flees before he puts himself in more risk of being seen.


End file.
